


They Made You Do It

by sarahenany



Category: How to Train Your Dragon (Movies)
Genre: Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Hurt/Comfort
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-10-16
Updated: 2018-04-06
Packaged: 2019-01-18 04:00:15
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 7
Words: 16,827
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12380466
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sarahenany/pseuds/sarahenany
Summary: There's a sharp pain in Toothless' side and he startles awake. His rider's standing above him, cold and commanding as Drago Bludvist himself. "Get up, you useless reptile."or, the first time I dare to post a multi-chapter fic in this fandom.





	1. Chapter 1

So.

I COULD handle the brainwashing/death fallout in HTTYD2 with judicious thought and analysis. I could handle the space between the final scene and the tag with finesse, draw on the gravitas of death and the reality of human (and dragon) emotions to tease out the hidden resentments that simmer beneath the characters’ conscious minds, making the reader contemplate the reality that we all live to die and that no friendship or love exists untainted by pain, that there is no unconditional love and nothing lasts forever.

Or.

I could take a brainwashing story and use it as an excuse to add a metric fuckton of gratuitous whump and finally reach a melodramatic resolution with a lot of sentimental tears and bathos.

If you’ve read _anything_ I’ve ever written, you’ll know what I chose.

* * *

 

"Get up, you useless reptile."

There's a sharp pain in Toothless' side and he startles awake. His rider's standing above him, cold and commanding as Drago Bludvist himself.

"Out."

Toothless cringes on his slab. He hasn't slept with Hiccup in his wings for days, since the chief of the Reprobate Rascals left in fact, but… What's going on? Hiccup isn't asking him out for a midnight fly, that's for sure.

He climbs off the stone.  _What is it?_ he whines.

"Out of the house." His rider grabs his tail like it's a thing. "And be quiet. Don't wake my mother. She's gone through enough because of you."

Toothless is a Night Fury. He can slip through the night like a shadow. He flows down the stairs without a whisper. Hiccup follows, taking something from under his bed.

As he noses open the door to the chief's hut, Toothless wishes he was deluded. But to be blunt, he knows the reason for this midnight summons. Dragons can and do forgive. But there are some things that are unforgivable.

He hopes Hiccup will make it quick.

Hiccup is on Toothless' heels as his tailfin clears the door. "Round the back of the house. Over there." Limned by the moonlight, face in shadow, he points imperiously at a patch of grass behind the chief's hut.

Toothless could run.  _Should_  run. His instincts are telling him to. But he can't shake the feeling that this was long overdue, that it should have happened earlier. That he's been living on borrowed time.

That if he runs from Hiccup, he won't be able to run from himself.

"Go on."

His friend's voice is unrecognizable. Toothless pads obediently to the patch of grass and crouches in it, shoulders hunched. He can see Hiccup's face in the moonlight now. He smells of Hiccup and he sounds like Hiccup, but he's not Hiccup. It's some other Viking, it's his father back in the bad old days on Berk where all anyone knew about dragons was "kill on sight." And yet, even Stoick the Vast had compassion, doubt and conviction, and you could smell his feelings and see the play of emotions on his face and in his eyes. This? This Hiccup is dead inside. His face is flat, expressionless, his eyes void of their spark. Devoid of love and compassion, yes, but devoid even of anger and vengefulness. Perhaps this is the blankness of grief they talk about.

Toothless is filled with worry for his little human. Perhaps Hiccup has somehow absorbed the old anger and hatred that used to live within his father. They say such emotions leach away from brave and valiant men on their way to Valhalla, finding their way into those who still live on Midgard. If that's so, then Toothless deserves only what he gets.

But that was always true, anyway.

Feeling as he did the day of Stoick's death – no,  _the day he killed Stoick –_ Toothless looks plaintively up at his human. Is it worth calling to him? Reminding him of the friendship they share? He can't help a croon.

"Shut up." Hiccup gazes down at Toothless with contempt. "Sure you look innocent now. But a little effort? Working to get rid of the Alpha's control? A moment, that was all I needed. Just to get him out of the way. But you couldn't resist for even that long." He glares, flinty-eyed. "Did you hate him? Did you  _want_ to kill him? Do you even know what you've done?"

With inhuman speed, pain claws at Toothless' flank. It's like being struck by another dragon. He lets out a shriek. Hiccup lowers the weapon to his side – through the shrieking of his nerves, he can't tell what it is, but it seems to be some kind of hammer – and grabs Toothless by the saddle. The malevolent grimace shoved up into his face makes Toothless cringe. "Don't make a sound, you…" Hiccup shakes him by the saddle,  _"traitor…"_ A blade flashes out and cuts the saddle straps. "I'm taking this off you. You don't deserve it anymore."

At the loss, Toothless can't help a low moan. "I said shut  _up!"_

Hiccup's metal leg whacks him in the jaw, in the sensitive underside where Hiccup loves – loved – to scratch. The blow sends fire down Toothless' nerves. He opens his mouth to scream, remembers he mustn't make a sound, remembers he deserves it, remembers how he was a monster, and swallows his pain. Panting, he crouches in the grass. He's earned this. He can take it.

"What's with you? Go on, fight back or something! Why are you just rolling over?"

Toothless whimpers, meeting Hiccup's eyes. He doesn't deserve forgiveness, but he can't help but try to make contact any way he can.

"Shut up!" Hiccup screams, then lowers his voice to a hiss. "Your eyes weren't that innocent then. They were scary. Couldn't you have fought off the brainwashing a few hours earlier? You couldn't have shown some of that recognition maybe when you were KILLING MY FATHER!"

Hiccup draws back his leg for another kick. No _no no no please please not there again_ is all Toothless can think before another blow cracks at his under-jaw sweet-spot. The nerve bundle sparks and blazes white behind Toothless' eyelids, then goes dark. He drops. Hiccup is still hissing at him to fight, but his hearing is nothing but a piercing whine. He closes his eyes.

"Oh, no you don't!" Hiccup grabs him again, but not by the saddle: there is no more saddle, because Toothless no longer deserves it. He can't blame Hiccup, really. Why would he want to fly with the dragon who killed Stoick? "Open your eyes," Hiccup urges, hands fisted in Toothless' ear-plates. "I want you to feel this!" Toothless has a moment more to mourn the saddle before Hiccup lifts the weapon. It swings in an arc, impacting his cheek and feeling like it's taken his head clean off his neck.

He swallows his scream. He's promised Hiccup he won't cry out. After all… he closes his eyes to blot out the spinning in his throbbing head… Stoick never got a chance to.

Hiccup's suddenly close, crouching so near that Toothless can feel his body heat and smell his sweat.  _Wait, something is wrong…_ there's a smell mixed in with Hiccup's that shouldn't be there. Then he forgets everything as Hiccup whispers with venom, "I should kill you right now."

His friend's soft hands roll Toothless over onto his back. Normally, Toothless would feel safe in the knowledge that Hiccup would never hurt him. Now, he knows what's coming, but he doesn't resist. It's Hiccup's right, has been ever since Toothless fired that fatal blast.

"I should have killed you the day I met you," Hiccup hisses, "and my father would still be alive today."

A tremor goes through Toothless, deep as his old life, deep as the egg from which he hatched.  _The day I met you._ The uprooting of the memories they share is worse than the pain in his body, worse is the knowledge that he's earned it.

Stricken, he stares at his Hiccup. The one for whom he would give anything. The one from whom he took everything.

"You should have died instead of him," Hiccup hisses. "You should have swallowed your flame. If you were really the friend you say you are, you'd have let it kill you. Dragons can do that, can't they? Swallow their fire? Then you'd have been dead out there and he'd be alive. And I'd be glad." Hiccup grabs Toothless' ears, fingers digging into the sensitive nubs. "Glad, you hear me?"

Toothless wonders if Hiccup cutting out his heart would hurt more than this. He'd have expected this in the immediate aftermath, but Hiccup was so loving, so forgiving.  _It wasn't your fault. You'd never hurt him, you'd never hurt me._ That was what he'd said…  _My best friend..._

"Yeah. Yeah, I said what I had to." Toothless must have shown what he was thinking somehow, for Hiccup to know what he's referring to, but Hiccup can always read what he's thinking, anyway. "I told you I forgave you because I'm a spineless wimp. And I needed you. Nothing would have gotten you away from Drago but that, so I said what I had to say. But it was a lie. It was all lies. What you did doesn't deserve forgiveness."

Hiccup thuds down onto one knee on Toothless' stomach. He's not heavy, but the movement is hard enough to drive the breath out of his lungs. "I should…" He draws his dagger. With its point, Hiccup traces the place on Toothless' chest that lies over his heart. Toothless is sure Hiccup can see it beating: it feels like it's going to beat its way out of his chest. The stench of human iron and sweat and anger radiates from the Viking. "I'm gonna cut out your heart… like I should have cut it out and taken it to  _him…_ " He bursts into tears, and through the ringing in his ears and the buzzing in his head and the hateful expression, Toothless still wants to comfort him, to take that pain away.

The pain he caused the person closest to him in all the world.

Hiccup's so close that Toothless would have to hurt him to get away. He could throw him off, fight him off. But he won't. Toothless won't defend himself, not even to save his life. It is what he deserves, after all – what he has known he deserved since that moment he woke up from the brainwashing and found Stoick the Vast dead by his flame.

But he can't watch his best friend do this. He turns his head away and closes his eyes.

The point of the dagger presses against Toothless' chest for a long, long moment, the piercing sensation fractionally harder then softer with each pulsing  _ba-dump_ of his hammering heart. Then the knife is withdrawn, and almost immediately a weight smashes into Toothless' side. It's numb for a split-second... "Stupid useless dragon…" then his side explodes into pain. Toothless chokes. Now he recognizes Hiccup's weapon. It's a mace.

The next few minutes are a blur of agony the like of which Toothless can't recall since losing his tailfin. Dragon-root poisoning doesn't come close. Hiccup swings the mace into Toothless' ribs over and over, sobbing and shouting about Toothless killing his only family. Sometimes the mace catches his wings. When it's over, Hiccup storms off without looking back, and Toothless is panting and writhing in the grass, ribs pulsing in time to his heart.

Minutes pass, then hours, the night-dew descending onto Toothless' body and soothing the aftereffects of the beating. He should run, logic tells him. He doesn't know what tomorrow will bring. Hiccup probably plans to finish the job, but will wait till morning so as to make it an execution, not a blood-feud killing. It's intelligent, for if their Alpha is murdered in dead of night, Berk's dragons will seek vengeance, unlike if his life is legitimately forfeit. If Toothless wants to live, he should run. But where would he go? To the forest? To live out his life in exile?

He lies in the grass, still trembling in shock and pain. It's not even _his_ life anymore. Human and dragon cultures agree: after what he's done, he belongs to Hiccup. Whatever his little human wants to do to him, Toothless will accept. Even before Stoick, it's been that way for a long time now.

Eventually, he starts triaging himself, and comes to the conclusion that, other than the shock, it's not as bad as it could be. His head and neck – he checks gingerly – are sore but intact. His wings are sparking with sharp, lancinating pains, but not broken. His ribs are throbbing fiercely, probably badly bruised, but again, not broken as far as he can tell. He's a strong dragon, and Hiccup's never been the most powerful Viking, even with a mace. His swing has never been as strong as Stoick's –

Toothless buries his face in the grass, and begins to keen.


	2. Chapter 2

**Three Days Earlier**

"This seat taken?"

Hiccup looks up at Astrid with almost desperate gratitude. He's been hammering out a peace treaty with the Reprobate Rapscallions for hours, and his head is ringing. Their chief is six-foot-seven with a big booming voice and a modest blond mustache, rather unfortunate in light of that she's a woman. She also has a tendency to look at him intently and tell him just how  _well-situated_ Berk is and how Stoick  _adamantly denied_ allowing the Rapscallions a foothold on the island  _just a tiny outpost to conduct trading from_. And how  _unfortunate_ it is that he passed in such a  _sad_ manner, especially since he did so  _much_ for the dragons only to have them  _turn_ on him…

"Are they gone?" Hiccup asks Astrid urgently. Valka and half the village went to escort them off the island, but their chief laid a strong hand on Hiccup's shoulder and told him to just sit here and finish his drink, sonny. Hiccup doesn't mind the 'sonny'. He's heard worse. And sitting here with a horn of mead or whatever this stuff is beats the pants off spending another moment with the Rapscallions any day of the week.

"Just sailed," Astrid confirms.

"Oh, thank Thor." He drains his horn and lets his head fall to the table with a  _thunk._ "I did not need that."

_"They_ are the ones who need  _us,"_ Astrid observes, grabbing a flagon of mead and pouring herself a horn. "She was practically drooling over the thought of having an outpost on Berk."

Hiccup shakes his head a fraction. "I do not get how she even thinks I would agree to something like that. I mean, okay, I'm not…" it's still hard to say it nearly a year later, "I'm not Dad, and I can see how she'd think I'm a weaker chief, but this is just insane!"

"You're not a weaker chief."

"This isn't about me, it's how they think about me. You could see the way they looked at the dragons. Like they think they're going to turn on me at any minute and all she needs to do is wait for Toothless or Hookfang or one of the other dragons to take a bite out of my hide, and then—"

"The Rapscallions are a nasty bunch," Gobber cuts in, dropping into the chair on the other side of Hiccup. "Gave Stoick no end of trouble. Would you believe, that woman's predecessor, little weasel, tried to get me to betray Stoick. The nerve of the man!" He smirks. "I told Stoick about it and we handled it. That was fun."

Hiccup and Astrid stare. "What did you do?" Astrid finally ventures.

Gobber side-eyes them. A smile tugs at his cheek. "That would be tellin'."

Hiccup shakes his head. He's starting to feel the pull that tells him he's been away from Toothless too long. One day he's just going to refuse to meet anti-dragon chiefs altogether. It's demeaning to have his friend locked up in the house like some plague, lest he antagonize some idiot who isn't worth the dirt Toothless walks on.

Gobber is still talking to Astrid. "They work by trying to break up winning teams." Hiccup rises slowly, horn still in hand. "That's why they tried to drive a wedge between me and Stoick and jump into the vacuum of power left by…"

Astrid stands. "Gobber, I'm taking him home."

Gobber looks up. Hiccup hasn't thought he looked old in a long time, but now, he looks old and tired. "Go ahead, lass."

"Want to walk with us?" Hiccup feels obligated to ask.

"No, no—GRUMP! Who let you in here?"

Hiccup and Astrid grin as Gobber's lazy Hotburple waddles over to their table and shoves his head under Gobber's hand, demanding to be petted. "Ya lazy lump, ya probably let the fire die down in the forge, didn't ya?" Gobber tries agrowl, before his face melts into pure love and he positively burbles, scratching the dragon and making a fuss of him. "Who's a great fat cuddly lazy lump? Who's a big beautiful boy? Who's a…"

* * *

They emerge into the cold night air. "I caught him making blueprints of a scratching hand prosthetic," Hiccup grins to Astrid.

"Grump's a good match for Gobber," Astrid agrees. She shudders. "Did you hear  _her_  today, talking about how we should never trust dragons and they'll turn on us?"

Hiccup feels his jaw clench and he looks away. "Yeah."

"Oh, no." Astrid actually stops walking for a minute. "She  _didn't!"_

He moves forward with measured steps. When he speaks, his voice is light. "Ohhhh, yes she did." He figures letting it out may ease the headache that's been forming ever since he sat with the Rapscallion chief. "She even gave me her condolences. Said how sad it was that such a great chief was struck down by…" He feels his voice grow unsteady. "Savage beast, yada yada. Wrong to trust dragons."

"Hiccup," she says softly. "I'm sorry." She curls her arm through his and squeezes. "That was a very chiefly thing to do. I don't think I could sit there and listen if someone trash-talked Stormfly like that."

"Well Stormfly didn't kill your dad," Hiccup says, then stops dead in shock.

Astrid jerks to a halt next to him. "You did not just say that."

Hiccup shakes his head violently. "No, I didn't. I shouldn't. I don't even believe…" He runs a hand over his eyes. "I don't know what came over me." He starts walking again, feeling a little like he's staggering. "'Night, Chief!" Bucket calls as he heads home from the docks, echoed by a few more villagers.

Hiccup returns the greeting. "Mom says it's not his fault."

Astrid walks beside him, letting his words fall into the cold night air and settle. When they're out of earshot, she asks evenly, "And what do you think?"

"Of course it's not his fault! I know that!" Hiccup shakes his head, running a hand through his hair. "But what-ifs can drive you crazy sometimes." She walks by his side, silently listening. "What if he'd tried harder to resist? Would it have made a difference? A half a second would have been enough for Dad to get out of the way of the blast! He'd be alive today!"

"What-ifs  _can_  drive you crazy," says Astrid evenly. He doesn't notice her grave tone yet.

"I don't know, Astrid. I trust Toothless, I do, I do! He'd never hurt Dad. He'd never hurt me. I know that." Hiccup shakes his head again. "I  _know_ that!" Why is all this coming up now? "It's just that sometimes I…" Hiccup rubs the back of his neck. "Sometimes I can't help remembering." He bows his head. "I can't remember his face. I can't remember anything except—except how he… how he died. Sometimes I'm afraid it's all I'm going to remember of him."

Astrid's eyes are wise. "When you lose someone, it's… okay to think that, Hiccup. When," she swallows, "when my Uncle Finn was killed, all I could see for – years – after that night was how he looked at me. How he died." She draws in a shuddering breath. "He sang to me, he taught me how to use an axe, he told me stories. And for years all I could remember was the way he died." She takes a deep breath. "But then suddenly, it was like a gate opening, and all the memories came back all at once. It'll get better. It will. I promise. But it takes a while. And it hurts." She runs her fingers through his hair, almost-but-not-quite getting started on a new braid. "You'll remember the good times. All of it. But it does stay closed off for years." Her voice is sad. "The heart protecting itself, I guess."

They're at Astrid's now. "It's only a little way to your house. Your mom will probably be waiting up. Should I walk you home?" she asks.

"That would be so great for my manly image," Hiccup smiles.

Astrid grabs the buckle on the chest of his flight suit and pulls him in. "Oh, because you care  _so much_ for your manly image."

Hiccup grins, nose-to-nose now. "Do you want me to start acting like Snotlout?"

"Only if you want me to start treating you like Snotlout." Astrid grins and kisses him. "Night, babe."

"G'night, Astrid."

The talk should have made him feel better. He can feel the place in his chest where it should make him feel better. But instead, his heart is strangely heavy as he makes his way to his house.

* * *

Valka is waiting for him, already slumped at the kitchen table with one of her herbal teas, venting her disgust at the Rapscallions and everything to do with them to Cloudjumper through the window. They've planned to build an addition that will accommodate the gigantic Stormcutter, but for now he puts his face in the ground-floor window, Valka leaning back against him and running her fingers through the feathery scales on his face. Sitting on the floor by the fire, face against Toothless' scales, Hiccup is glad, not for the first time, that Toothless can fit in the house.

"…always giving trouble. Your father had no end of a job keeping them quiet, and now that we have dragons they're a hundred times worse…" Hiccup droops against Toothless, fatigue taking him. Valka is lucky. At least it isn't  _her_ dragon who murdered the mainstay of her family.

_Wait, what?_ He shakes his head. Where is this coming from? Hiccup strokes Toothless' side. He knows it wasn't the dragon's fault. Picking up on his distress, the dragon croons softly, liquid eyes fixed lovingly on Hiccup. A wave of tenderness ripples through Hiccup. "Hey, bud," he murmurs. "It's okay. I'm okay." He skritches Toothless' head, and Toothless makes a low pleased grumbling sound.  _Where does he get off being happy after he killed Dad?_ the thought jumps into Hiccup's head.

Hiccup passes a hand over his eyes. "I'm going to bed," he says shortly. "Good night."

Mother and dragon follow him with their eyes as he climbs upstairs to bed.


	3. Chapter 3

**One Day Earlier**

"I wish you could stay longer," says Djamilah, the Berserkers' Moorish healer, to Gothi. "I enjoyed your company so much in this village of  _meinfretr_."

Gothi grins just short of a scandalized giggle, scratching  _Mutual_ in the dirt.

"Hey!" says the chief's sister, but she's used to the village healer calling her a stinkfart. "Just because you're the healer doesn't mean you can insult us!"

 _Insult is healer's privilege,_ Gothi writes.  _Also whacking in head with staff._

"We need more dragon-healing experience," Djamilah goes on, more seriously. She reaches out to stroke Cloudjumper. "May I?" Cloudjumper nods and flutters his scales as she runs a dark hand over them. He likes the Berserkers' healer. She reminds him of Valka. "Simple things like allergies will often leave us up shit creek."

"We owe you a debt of gratitude." Heather says formally to Gothi.

 _Yes we do,_  Windshear chirrs, nodding her polished head. The Razorwhip, and the island's dragons, are now completely cured of a reaction to an obscure plant that even Dagur hadn't recognized, but Gothi identified by scent without too much effort. Gothi smiles up at the grateful Razorwhip, who nuzzles the healer with her metallic hide.

"I'd say we owe Berk, but it'll have to be you personally. We couldn't owe Berk any more than we already do."

The young chief of the village comes in for a landing on his Triple Stryke, hovering on big wingbeats before landing.  _Hi, Windshear,_ Sleuther nods. Then he bows to Cloudjumper.  _Greetings, Alpha-Dam's Consort._

 _Greetings. No need to be so formal, Sleuther._ Cloudjumper tilts his head pleasantly.  _Nice island you have here._

Sleuther offers the formal draconic response _, You are welcome to stay always_. Then he shifts to a friendlier register.  _How are things on Berk?_

_Good, good. We had some dragon-hating humans, but they're gone now. Still getting stragglers in from the last of the Ice Nest. Trying to get them settled in the Whispering Death tunnels below the human-nest before winter hits. As you can imagine, there's a lot of squabbling, and…_

"Heather…" Dagur greets the healers before resuming, "I'll only interrupt this a minute, but there's a Rapscallion ship in the east."

 _Those would be the dragon-haters,_ Cloudjumper says. Sleuther tosses his bright head.

"Oh, that's on its way back from Berk," says Djamilah. "Gothi was just telling me they left her village two days ago."

Heather frowns. "Why?"

 _Peace treaty,_ Gothi writes.

Heather shakes her head.

"What's wrong, sister?" asks Dagur.

"Probably nothing," says Heather. "But there's been a lot of talk among the other chiefs that they're plotting something against Berk." Cloudjumper bristles, and the other dragons raise their heads. Heather turns to Gothi. "Was everything okay when you left?"

 _Yes._ Gothi raises her head from the runes to look up at the chief and his second-in-command, then scratches out,  _What should I look for?_

Djamilah narrows her eyes, looking at her chief. "You don't think they'd try  _that_ again, do you?"

"Surely not," says Dagur. "None of the tribes has used it since the ban. Hel, even Drago Bludvist never went  _that_ far." He shudders.

Gothi's gaze is absent. She strokes her chin.  _They were very insistent,_ she writes.  _I'll keep an eye open for any occurrences of that kind._

Cloudjumper rumbles to Gothi.  _If someone doesn't tell me what is going on very soon, I will be upset. You do not want me upset, trust me on this._

Heather's head turns from one to the other. "Is this something I missed when I was out looking for our father?"

"Well…" Dagur is a little hesitant. "It's probably nothing."

Heather folds her arms and narrows her eyes. "Which is a good way to get me to make you tell me everything."

"Well, sister… um…"

Djamilah waves the chief's hesitation aside. "Grudgeweed."

Dagur winces. "Djamilah, I'm not sure—"

"Shut up, brother." Heather faces the healer, arms akimbo. "Tell me what this stuff is, what it does."

Djamilah's voice goes dark. "We are not sure of its origins. It has been outlawed in the Archipelago for generations now, but some use it, and all remember it."

Dagur steeples his fingers and tries for a grin. "Heather, are you sure you want to—"

His sister's roar is only slightly less loud than Cloudjumper's. Both say, "TELL ME!"

Djamilah gestures down to where Gothi is scratching runes in the dirt.

_Grudgeweed is a killer that turns love to hate. It takes your dearest one and twists them into an enemy in your mind._

Cloudjumper shudders. Valka has taught him to read, pictures that speak in a tiny voice. And these pictures terrify him. _It turns friend against friend, parent against child, lover against lover. The stronger the love, the more the herb feeds on it. The more you care for someone, the more creative it seems to get with twisting that caring into a desire to cause them pain._

"That doesn't make sense," Heather protests. "You can resist it, right?"

Djamilah's face is sad. "There is no resisting it."

The finality in the healer's tone rubs Heather the wrong way. "If you really care for someone—My brother and I have a history of hating each other," they meet each other's eyes with matching rueful smiles, "and you know what, so have half the families in the Archipelago. But a mother and her child?"

Cloudjumper's eyes widen and he whispers,  _Valka…_

Djamilah looks soberly at Heather. "That is the bare minimum of love required to activate Grudgeweed. Historically, it has been used most often to drive a wedge between a chief and his heir. That is why it has never been used to break up tribal alliances – although in a handful of cases, it's been used in inter-tribe marriages to start a blood feud. As a general rule, it will only start to work with those for whom you would die willingly." Her face softens. "Lovingly. Like a mother and her child."

Heather can't stop shaking her head. "If it feeds on love, why's it called Grudgeweed?"

"That's its weapon of choice," says Djamilah. "Grudges. But I'm not talking big ones."

Gothi is writing as she speaks.  _The smallest slight, the most ridiculous altercation, becomes in your mind a justification for torture and murder._

"Murder?" Heather whispers.

 _It is recorded that under Grudgeweed, one chief of the Outcasts burned his son alive for breaking his favorite bowl._ The stick scratches in the dirt, relentless.  _A clan matriarch on the outskirts of the Archipelago_   _tortured her daughter to death because she borrowed her mace and was late bringing it back._

Heather shakes her head, reading the runes over and over until Gothi covers them over with fresh smooth dirt. "What's the antidote?"

Gothi looks at the young Berserker sadly, then turns to her writing.  _There is no antidote. Grudgeweed's spell is only broken with the beloved's death._

"Yeah, it's not pretty." The Berserker healer folds her arms and pushes back the hood of her cloak. "Ask your brother," Djamilah adds, "how that shit's been used in Berserker history. You Vikings aren't short of horrible methods of torture."

Dagur laughs nervously. "I'm sure nothing's wrong," he smiles at his sister, already scrambling onto her dragon, "but just in case, I think we ought to pay them a visit on Berk."


	4. Chapter 4

**One Day Later**

Toothless’ wake-up call comes in the middle of the night.

“Get up.” The coldness in Hiccup’s tone makes his heart sink. He’d hoped it was over, the madness, whatever this was. He’d so hoped.

Toothless looks up at his friend. Ex-friend? Friend? He doesn’t know anymore. Hiccup shoves him off the slab. “Out.”

There are guards outside, Toothless knows, at a respectful distance of some two hundred yards. He doesn’t want to take the chance on being seen… or heard. He shakes his head.

His head cracks back as Hiccup’s metal foot kicks the underside of his chin. Sparks explode behind Toothless’ eyelids. “I said _move!”_

Toothless wraps his claws around the stone slab. It’s risky, they shouldn’t be seen. He can keep it a secret if they stay in here, but outside he can’t control who might be flying by.

“You want to stay here?” Hiccup leans close. Toothless has never seen his kindhearted friend show such raw hatred to _anyone._ “You know who made that slab for you?” Toothless turns away. “That’s right. My dad. He made a bed especially for you, you worthless traitor.”

If Hiccup’s words weren’t true, they might not hurt. It’s the truth in them that burns into Toothless’ heart, and he can’t help a low keening murmur. He wishes Stoick were here. He was a father to Toothless, too. He cared for him, would never have hurt him…

“Shut up.” Hiccup kicks his neck again. “Don’t pretend to be grieving for him. He let you into his home, he treated you like a son. How do you sleep at night knowing what you did in return, huh?”

Toothless cringes.

“I wish you were dead instead of him,” Hiccup says, with a deadly calm that spills cold into Toothless’ fire, makes him feel like he’s back under the ice floes, sinking and flailing. He remembers how Hiccup cried for him in anguish. “I wish you’d drowned under the ice that time.” Toothless blinks in surprise. Hiccup is almost reading his thoughts. “I wish they’d brought your dead body into Mom’s nest.” Toothless remembers how loving, how affectionate Hiccup was as he flew to his side, and can’t help a whimper. But Hiccup is still speaking, swinging his mace. _Since when does he even keep a mace?_ “If you’d drowned, you wouldn’t have killed Dad.” He narrows his eyes. “And you’d have gone to Valhalla. Now you’re going to the other place. I wonder what they do to dragons there?”

He straightens, coolly meeting Toothless’ eyes. Toothless knows his panic is showing. “You know I’m gonna make you wish you were there, don’t you?”

Toothless nods.

* * *

 

In the end, Hiccup takes him outside. When Toothless attempts to convey to him that he’d rather be beaten inside the house, Hiccup curses him so viciously for wanting to wake Hiccup’s innocent mother, “who lost the man she loved after _twenty years_ because you couldn’t hold back for _five fucking minutes”_ – that he gives in.

He’s crouching in the grass again. He’ll admit to fearfully following the tip of the mace with his eyes, needing to know where it will strike. It draws his eyes even more than his other half’s pained, disgusted face, and he glances from one to the other, not sure which will ultimately hurt more—

The mace smashes into his cracked ribs. It forces a shriek. Toothless bites off the sound, but Hiccup’s already in his face, snarling. “Don’t you dare make a sound. I trusted you.” He grabs Toothless’ ear and yanks on it to twist Toothless’ head. “And you let me down.” Still with Toothless’ head twisted low as if for a sword-thrust, he raises the mace high and swings it down to impact the junction of foreleg and shoulder. Toothless can’t help his ragged howl, burying his face in the grass to swallow the sound. He startles when he recalls that his attempt at muffling the noise may not have worked. Most dragons can hear reverberations in the earth, so if the guards are not far enough away, they’ll hear it.

Hiccup’s on him again, pushing him onto his back, dagger unsheathed and tracing the outlines of his heart. “I should kill you…” Toothless tunes him out – if the dagger drives into his chest, he’ll know – and pricks up his aching ears, vibrating in fear of his last scream having been heard. He’s in no condition to defend his rider. Any dragon walking in on this right now would be a disaster and can only end in bloodshed. “I should never have untied you, I should have left you in that bola…”

It’s easier to keep his ears open and his mouth shut when he’s only being threatened and not beaten, even through the numb knowledge that his life may end at any moment and there’s nothing he can do to stop it. But he listens through the fear for any dragons, and finally, he’s reassured that no-one is coming. Just in time, as Hiccup shoves his face into Toothless’. “I don’t know why I keep you alive.” Hiccup’s face is filled with hate, displacing the love he has always seen in his friend’s eyes. “You were my friend. I trusted you. I trusted you…”

Hiccup straightens up and tucks the knife back into his belt. Then he raises the mace. Toothless’ eyes fix on it fearfully before it lands on his cracked wing and his vision goes white.

It hurts immeasurably more than the day before, for now he’s being beaten on his bruises. Toothless clamps his mouth firmly closed, writhing and flapping helplessly to avoid crying out. A dragon’s hide is sturdy, but it’s not impregnable and Toothless was injured before the first blow ever landed. He chokes back whimpers of sick pain as he feels a rib or two crack. The only upside of this is that Hiccup isn’t strong enough to beat him hard enough to kill him. But after it’s gone on a while, Toothless jerking feebly under the blows like a dying bird, he starts to wonder if it is an upside at all.

Finally, Hiccup is done. He slings some final insults that Toothless can’t hear through the ringing in his ears, then staggers into the house. Toothless can hear his footsteps trudging up the stairs. Thank whoever is listening that none of the dragons were alerted to the… the attack or… or retribution or whatever this is.

Toothless gathers himself. He’s not sure whether or not he can hide his injuries from the rest of the dragons, but he’s going to try. His limbs are ringing in his ears, bones feeling like the marrow is seeping out and making him sick. Slowly, he manages to crawl to a hollow in the earth, where he curls up as best he can. He attempts to triage, but his brain is fuzzy. The pain as he bends to lick his wounds makes his head feel like it’s going to burst. There’s no blood, anyway, just bruises. He gives up on the effort and slumps, letting the dew settle on his hide.

Eventually, he falls into a doze. In his dreams, there are spikes of ice, and death, and tears.

* * *

He jerks awake to Hiccup’s cry. Valka is kneeling by him, holding his head in her lap. Hiccup throws himself down beside him, hands hovering over Toothless’ body. Toothless feels himself shrink away, looking behind his human automatically for the mace. Hiccup is beside himself. “Oh no… oh no…” He frantically touches and triages and soothes and caresses, and it would feel normal and right except for _You know I’m going to make you wish you were in Helheim, don’t you_ and _I don’t know why I keep you alive._ Toothless buries his head in the grass and tries to shut out the feeling of Hiccup bathing his bruises with cool compresses. He tries to listen to the birds and the surrounding dragons muttering and whispering and the Riders running to the scene as Hiccup murmurs and exclaims over him and whispers comfort and love. “Who did this to you?” Hiccup breathes. “Toothless, you gotta tell me, you gotta give me something to go on!”

Toothless just vocalizes and shakes his head. He wouldn’t tell Hiccup even if Hiccup could understand him. To be honest, he wouldn’t believe it if he hadn’t seen it himself. Feeling Hiccup’s tender touches, smelling his genuine grief and horror and sympathy, edged with that strange scent that’s always around him nowadays, Toothless isn’t even sure he didn’t hallucinate the whole thing. “Hiccup, don’t press him,” says Valka.

“Don’t press him? I gotta press him! What if they don’t stop at—at hurting him? What if next time…”

“There won’t be a next time,” Astrid says firmly. “We’ll guard your house ourselves tonight.”

Hiccup looks around at them. “I should have kept a better lookout. I don’t understand… We were upstairs…”

“We got this tonight. Gotta guard our chief and our Alpha,” drawls Ruffnut Thorston.

“They won’t get through us, H,” Tuffnut Thorston confirms, nodding confidently. Their Zippleback bumps heads. Toothless closes off his body language and forces himself to calm so his scent will be neutral. _Don’t approach,_ he commands Barf and Belch, and thank gods he’s the Alpha because if he wasn’t, they wouldn’t listen, and if they didn’t listen, Toothless couldn’t enforce it to save his life.

Hiccup and Valka are still talking, Valka defending Toothless’ refusal to talk. “Maybe they took him by surprise! Maybe he didn’t recognize them. We can find out more when Cloudjumper gets here.”

 _That’s all I need,_ thinks Toothless. He pushes his face into Valka’s stomach. _That is truly all I need._

Hiccup speaks confidently enough to the Riders, their dragons listening to him as they would to their Alpha because their Alpha is incapacitated right now. But when they’re gone, he slumps. “Who would do this to him, Mom?” he asks desperately. He presses his cheek to the top of Toothless’ head. “Oh, bud,” he whispers, voice breaking, and Toothless wants to rest his head in Hiccup’s lap but _You should have died instead of him,_ and Hiccup applies salve to his bruises but any touch to the cracked bone makes him cry out, and his soft hands touch Toothless’ chest to check for injuries and there aren’t any visible injuries but _should have cut out your heart the day I met you._

It’s all too much.

The sun, as it does, keeps rising into the sky, bringing closer the times when he’s going to have to do Alpha duties. Right now Toothless doesn’t feel like an Alpha. If Cloudjumper were here, he’d hand over his duties to him and crawl into a cave for a month.

Cloudjumper isn’t here, but Valka is and she clearly concurs. “The village can do without their Alpha for one day,” she says firmly. “Get upstairs and rest.”

“Yeah, you’re not going anywhere,” Hiccup chimes in, still touching Toothless with the same hands that beat him with a mace last night unless someone was pretending to be Hiccup or he was just hallucinating or he’s asleep and having some really weird dream. Normally, all Toothless wants when he’s sick or hurt is to press himself as close as possible against Hiccup and soak up the comfort his friend lavishes on him through his very skin, with his words and his hands and his heart and everything he is. Hiccup has never held anything back from Toothless, has always pledged himself completely to him, since what feels like forever, since they met _should have cut your heart out the day I met you_. But now he cringes from Hiccup, finding excuses to avoid his touch.

Toothless takes Valka’s advice. He forces himself up the stairs to lie on his slab in Hiccup’s room, immediately closing his eyes and feigning sleep. Hiccup follows him upstairs and sits by him, murmuring to him and stroking his face. It would have comforted Toothless Before – funny how two days ago is Before, now – but today, he just wants him out. He wants to sleep, and having Hiccup there is not helping.

He remains in an uneasy state of sleepy alert all day. Valka runs interference for the chiefly duties, and Hiccup _will not_ be budged from Toothless’ side. It makes Toothless upset and sick and warms his heart all at once. All he wants is for it to go on forever, for his best friend not to wake in the middle of the night unable to conceal his secret loathing. But every time he hears Hiccup whispering words of comfort to him, he recalls the snarling hate, recalls the words he said – words he, Toothless, has earned.

He knows he’ll be beaten again tonight. He wonders idly if Hiccup will ease up on the force of the blows, and make this a regular thing. He could endure it once a week, he thinks, if his friend loved him the rest of the time. It’s not like he hasn’t inflicted a similar wound on Hiccup, a pain that will remain with him for always. He’s not surprised that his friend is so filled with rage and resentment: he’s only surprised it took this long to show.

But then he hears Valka calling Cloudjumper’s name, and everything changes.


	5. Chapter 5

The term 'force will' or 'force-will' is the brainchild of Thursday26, their term for the Alpha's control that erases a dragon's will, and used with permission. Yay fanon!

Also, thanks to anon reviewer M3. You're the one who finally pushed me to get this updated.

* * *

"Hiccup!"

Toothless hears Gobber's voice float up from downstairs, through the uncomfortable haze of having Hiccup sitting next to him, trying to comfort him when it's Hiccup who caused this pain in the first place. To Toothless' infinite relief, Hiccup leaves his side. He doesn't know how much longer he could have endured lying here, wishing things weren't this way.

"I'll be back," Hiccup promises and straightens up fully. In the late afternoon sunlight slanting in from the windows, there's something dark in Hiccup's face that makes Toothless shudder. This isn't Hiccup - oh, it's his scent and all, but... he's almost like... like Toothless was when he was under the Alpha's control. Under what dragons call force-will. Not himself. His eyes are... not soft. Not-friend. Not-Hiccup. Absent.

His voice is still loving, still tender, still his own, but underneath it, there's something, something else. Something wrong.

Toothless slumps limply into his slab as Hiccup's footsteps  _click-thunk click-thunk_ down the stairs. The worst of it is, he knows a human's will can't be forced. This can only be the old rage at what Toothless has done, pushed down by his Hiccup's good nature until it festered into bitter resentment. He knows that this can't continue indefinitely; yet the knowledge of how it will end, of how it  _must_ end, makes him shy away from that ending.

"Hey, Gobber." They're standing right outside, and Hiccup's voice carries through the open window.

"Hiccup," Gobber says. He sounds a little breathless, as though he's just been running. "Dagur and Heather are here to see you. They came back with Gothi." His voice isn't just breathless - it's worried. "They landed up at her eyrie."

"Why didn't they come here?" Hiccup's voice is cold. Like the Hiccup who beats him every night. Toothless shivers."Mom knows I'm stuck here taking care of my dragon."

"Stuck here?" Gobber repeats, incredulous. Toothless knows that Gobber is just as familiar with Hiccup's way of speaking as he is, and he knows that Hiccup's old mentor would find this Hiccup just as strange as he does.

"Yeah. He couldn't keep himself from getting attacked. He didn't even see who did it." Toothless winces with humiliation as Hiccup goes on. "So he's all banged up, now, and I gotta take care of him."

Gobber's voice is hushed. "What are you saying, Hiccup?"

There's a pause, long enough to hear birdsong. When Hiccup speaks, it's the old Hiccup again. "I... I don't know. What am I saying?" He sounds panicked. "What did I say? How could I say that?"

"Lad..." Gobber begins, but it's interrupted by the arrival of Cloudjumper, Sleuther, Windshear, Stormfly, and their humans with them.

"Hiccup," Valka's voice is as soft and sweet and comforting as always to Toothless, but it has fear and pain in it that wasn't there this morning, "we have something to tell you."

The murmur of the humans' conversation is lost in the powerful beat of Cloudjumper's wings.  _Toothless. I heard you were attacked!_

Toothless is glad Cloudjumper is too big to fit into the skylight. It may be wishful thinking, but he has a faint hope that if he stays where he is, curled up on the slab, he can keep the source of his injuries from Cloudjumper too. He'll have to go out of the house eventually, but, for now, he can avoid having to talk about it. He can avoid the truth. The truth that he's paying the price for murder.

He burrows his head into his wing and deepens his breathing, feigning sleep.

_Don't you dare. That trick won't work on me. What do you think I am, a human?!_

Toothless stays curled up. Cloudjumper will leave sooner or later.

_Hiccup attacked you, didn't he?_

Toothless freezes, his breath catching.

Above him, he hears Cloudjumper's breath catch as well.  _Is it true?_ the Stormcutter gasps, not even bothering to take Toothless to task for pretending to be asleep.  _I hoped it wasn't…_

 _You shouldn't have come here, I'm the Alpha,_ Toothless grunts. Gods, he is a useless Alpha. The Ice-Nest Bewilderbeast, now  _that_ was a dragon worthy of respect, worthy of obedience. Worthy of being the alpha. He was a good dragon, without the blood of his family on his claws.  _I'm the..._ he chokes,  _I'm the Alpha…_

 _You reek of his anger_ , says Cloudjumper _. The whole house is covered in the stench of it. Why are you shielding him? He doesn't have the right to do this._

And Toothless shudders all over, tired of pretending.  _He does, Cloudjumper. This is just vengeance for Stoick the Vast's innocent blood. It's his right to avenge his family, and you know it._

 _His right,_ the wise, old dragon's voice comes through the skylight, acknowledging the humans' and dragons' right to vengeance both.  _His right_ ,  _but not his will._

Something in Cloudjumper's voice slips under Toothless' skin, making him shift with unease.  _What... what do you mean?_

_Your human has been poisoned. With a plant that forces will. It will make him kill you._

Toothless sinks back down to the slab.  _I deserve death._

There's a long pause, long enough for the humans' voices to drift up to Toothless' window. Long enough for him to hear Hiccup's voice, the Hiccup of the night, say harshly, "That's insane."

Finally, Cloudjumper rumbles,  _I did not know you were in such pain, Alpha._

 _It's not pain,_ Toothless shakes his head,  _it's justice_.

"TOOTHLESS!" Toothless jumps at Hiccup's yell. "Get down here!" His human has never sounded so peremptory, so curt. Like an Alpha reprimanding a flockling who's done something wrong. Toothless doesn't think; he scrambles to obey.

But Toothless hadn't realized what a relief it was to be resting. The moment he gets up, his flanks start to throb again, his cracked shoulder stabbing through him. He lets out a groan before he's fully aware of it. He forces his legs under him. They're shaky, but he stands, trembling until they support him. Cloudjumper croons, worried, in the skylight.  _Alpha, you're hurt, don't…_

 _No, I have to._ He tries to shake his head to clear it, but it makes his brain knock against his skull, dragging a gasp from him.

He's still blinking, trying to clear his vision, when the humans come thundering up the stairs, setting the attic to vibrating. "There he is!" Hiccup says nastily. "Too busy getting your beauty sleep to come downstairs, useless reptile?"

The sheer malice in Hiccup's tone makes Toothless cringe. The words are a barb his rider would normally level at him, but Hiccup always jokes with Toothless so  _softly,_ so lovingly. Never like this. For the first time, a spark of worry ignites in Toothless.  _Is there really such a herb?_ he mutters to Cloudjumper. Toothless can believe that Hiccup would kill him in justified vengeance or righteous indignation. He can't believe that he would have this much petty spite inside him.

 _There is such a herb,_ Cloudjumper confirms as the humans crowd in.  _It drives humans to kill those they love most. Then, in grief, they kill themselves._

Toothless' head snaps up, eyes wide. Then the humans descend upon them. "Hey, little buddy!" Dagur exclaims, shock on the Berserker's face. "How ya holding up?"

"Toothless!" Heather is right behind him. "Oh, sweetheart, I'm so sorry!"

Dagur makes it to him first, sitting on the slab and gently touching his head. Toothless' heart aches at the relief he feels to be comforted by the Berserkers. It should be Hiccup. But Hiccup is standing impassive, arms folded, facing Toothless with a scowl on his face. Toothless' legs are starting to ache from standing too long – and it's Dagur who has mercy on him. "Sit down, little buddy. You look ready to drop."

"Yes, why are you standing?" Valka asks melodiously.

With a fearful glance up at Hiccup – he really doesn't want any more pointed barbs leveled at him – Toothless gratefully sinks to the slab, trembling with fatigue. Dagur pets his head. "Go on," Dagur says to Hiccup as Heather comes to sit on the slab on Toothless' other side. "Ask him."

One corner of Hiccup's mouth lifts in a parody of a smile. "They're telling me  _I_ did this to you," he drawls to Toothless. "They're crazy, right? You know that doesn't make sense, you stupid dragon."

Toothless closes his eyes and turns his head away.

Valka gasps.  _Gods,_ Cloudjumper says,  _he reeks of the herb. The stench of it is everywhere. How did you not notice it?_

The humans all talk at once. It's too hard to make out individual words, but one thing is clear: Hiccup doesn't believe it. "Hiccup," Valka's voice cuts through the darkness behind Toothless' closed eyes, "he just said so!"

"Said so?" Hiccup sneers. "Dumb dragon can't talk."

The words hit hard. Toothless can't speak Norse, but Hiccup has always been able to understand him. Maybe he can't speak of complex concepts, but Hiccup has never flat-out misunderstood him quite like this. Maybe once, when they were both much younger, but never since. Toothless can feel the humans' heads come up from where they're sitting next to him, can feel their uneasy stares towards Hiccup. "You've never said that about him before," Heather says flatly, cautiously.

Hiccup blinks and shakes his head. For a moment, Toothless glimpses a shift in his eyes. Force-will? Is he really under... But Toothless refuses to believe it. If he believes it and it turns out to be false, it would truly kill him, worse than Hiccup's knife in his chest.

Astrid's scent grows stronger, and an instant later she appears on the stairs. She smells strongly of Heather, and of Viking metal. She pushes around Hiccup, clutching her axe. "I had to deal with something," she says by way of excusing herself, breathless and exasperated. "What did he say?"

Toothless stares as Hiccup shoulders past them all, all but shoving Astrid as he heads down the stairs. "I don't have time for this," he says, his words trailing behind him. "I have a village to run."

Silence falls, the  _thunk-click_  of Hiccup's descending footsteps echoing through the room like a suffocating presence. Everyone looks at each other. Toothless sees the unease in their faces, feeling it in his own chest, but the humans' faces are also filling with panic. The footsteps reach the ground floor and  _thunk-click_  to the door. It creaks and slams shut, and Hiccup's scent subsides, his footsteps echoing away and blending into the sounds of the village.

Valka moves first, crossing over to Toothless' slab from where she was standing in front of Gobber, and sinks to her knees on the floor in front of Toothless, between Heather's knee and Toothless' head. She angles herself to face out toward the room and the other humans, pressing her cheek carefully against his, and he's not too proud to take the comfort. Cloudjumper croons mournfully to them from the skylight behind them. "He doesn't mean it, lad," she sighs. Her voice is thick, choked. "It wasn't this bad," she adds, looking up at them all. "I swear it wasn't this bad!"

"I believe you," the Berserker chief tells her. Toothless remembers Dagur taking care of him, once. He was sick, and Hiccup ran out to draw enemy fire, to defend Toothless with his life. It seems like another lifetime now. And it turns out Toothless wasn't worth it. "How long ago were they here?"

"Three days," Astrid says.

Dagur's head snaps up. "Three days?"

"Well," Gobber steps forward, "four if you count today."

The Berserker shakes his head. "That can't be right."

"What is it, Dagur?" asks Heather.

"Grudgeweed doesn't take that long to work," Dagur says, looking up at the assembled humans. Cloudjumper makes a soft sound from the skylight, and Valka turns her head to meet his eyes as the guest chief speaks on. "It usually takes effect within hours. There isn't a single record of it taking longer than twenty-four hours to work, and I've read up on this pretty thoroughly. I'm not proud to say I was fascinated by it when I was younger."

"Figures," Astrid says with a wry smirk, but there's only friendship in it.

Dagur turns to Toothless. "Little buddy..." The babyish nickname for a glorious Nightwing should annoy Toothless, but it only makes his heart ache, "how come he hasn't killed you yet? When did he start attacking you?" The human looks up at Valka. "How did this happen? It could be important."

"We woke up to find Toothless had been attacked," Valka tells the humans. Cloudjumper rumbles sadly from the skylight. Valka straightens, sliding her arm from around Toothless. "Did he attack you in the night, Toothless? Was it while you slept?"

Toothless tilts his head. Hiccup didn't exactly  _attack_  him; he pulled him out of the house for retribution, and Toothless followed along, willingly. He says as much to Cloudjumper. The humans listen, not understanding, but willing to let him speak.

But no sooner are the words out of his mouth than Cloudjumper screeches.  _You're an idiot. Of course it was an attack! Valka! Listen!_  And Cloudjumper tells Valka what Toothless has told him, in a mixture of hatchling-Dragonese and very mangled Norse.

Valka gasps. "Toothless!" The humans are no less shocked when Valka tells them, and Toothless is confused as to what all the fuss is about.  _It was only retribution for murder,_ he tells Cloudjumper and Valka.  _I deserve much worse._

 _Shut up,_  says Cloudjumper.  _He woke you and dragged you outside in the middle of the night?_

 _He didn't drag me_ , Toothless insists.  _I went willingly._

Cloudjumper screeches again, louder this time, making the humans jump. Valka looks into his eyes, crooning, and he huffs, explaining to her what they've been saying. She relays it to the assembled humans.

"That might be a reason..." Dagur says thoughtfully. "I've read that the people targeted by Grudgeweed's victims tend to fight back. Perhaps you slowed the poison by not doing that..."

"Well, it's taken effect now for sure," says Gobber. "Village to run, my eye. Since when does Hiccup act like an arrogant brat!"

"Since he was poisoned," says Heather.

The statement sobers everyone. Toothless speaks to Cloudjumper without turning his head.  _Is it possible? Can there be a poison that works like force-will?_

 _The humans,_  Cloudjumper rumbles,  _say yes. It is so dangerous that they have banned it with their human laws. They say it works stronger the more you love._  He sighs, turning his head away and huffing out flame.  _They say your human was poisoned with it in stealth when the dragon-haters were here._

 _Poisoned?_ Toothless' heart clenches as it sinks in. Justified vengeance is one thing. Hiccup dying of a poison is another.  _Please… tell me it can be reversed…_

"…looking for an antidote now," Gobber says. "She said she would be over as soon as she found something."

"She does have a lot more experience than our healer," Heather says hopefully, almost desperately, "so maybe she will be able to find it."

Still seated, Valka straightens. "We've got to get Toothless off Berk."

 _No!_ The humans and Cloudjumper make noises of assent, but Toothless shakes his head and growls. It's terrible, but if Hiccup has been poisoned, if he's in danger, he won't be able to endure hiding safe on Dragon Island or somewhere while Hiccup suffers the effects of this unknown substance. Toothless looks up at Cloudjumper, trying to speak slowly to make himself understood by Valka as well.  _Do we know the effects if the victim can't find his… the one he…_ He has to swallow.  _The one he wants to kill?_

Valka relays the question to Dagur. "The books don't mention that, little buddy," he says. "I guess… He'd just… Get angry? Maybe violent? I… Ah, I admit it, I don't know." Dagur slumps, trailing off.

 _So there's nothing that guarantees it won't kill him?_ Toothless conveys through Cloud, then Valka.

"Uh…" Dagur looks at Valka helplessly, then around at the rest of the Berk humans, "I do…" His eyes slide to the side. "I'm trying to think of what I've read. I remember they caught one chief in the middle of trying to kill his son, and managed to get the kid away from him – but he went berserk, overpowered the people holding him with some kind of crazy maneuver and got to him." He looks up at the humans staring at him. "What? We're Berserkers! Berserker Rush is what we do!"

Toothless narrows his eyes, feeling the closest to his old self he has all week.  _And risk him killing himself on the off-chance he won't die? Doesn't sound too foolproof to me, Berserker. No offense._

There's a beating of wings outside.  _Hi, Rubyfruit,_ Toothless hears Cloudjumper greet Gothi's Gronckle. The village healer scrambles off her dragon, and a moment later Toothless hears her enter the hut. By then, the humans have heard her arrival as well. The younger humans part respectfully to grant her passage. She's armed with a pile of wax tablets; Toothless has erased those for her before. The first page is already drawn.

"There is no cure," Gobber gasps softly. "The only cure is the beloved's death. In recorded history, there has never been a boor. –Sorry. A cure."

"We're not letting Toothless die to save Hiccup!" snaps Valka, clutching Toothless so hard around his neck that it starts to hurt. Funny that Hiccup's dam and Stoick's mate should be the one to say that. From where Toothless sits, he can't see anything wrong with his life being forfeit. Yes, life is precious, and yes, he grieves to die, but he earned his own death the moment he charged up his plasma blast to kill his Hiccup. He would be already dead if he  _had_ killed Hiccup, dead by his own flame. The fact that he killed Stoick has only bought him a little time. He  _should_ have known that Hiccup's forgiveness was too good to be true.

"Toothless…" Astrid steps forward. "You aren't thinking you deserve this, are you?"

For answer, he lifts his head and opens his mouth, letting her see his own bright flame building in his throat. He knows she will understand.

"That wasn't your fault, Toothless!" Astrid kneels to him. "Hiccup knows that!"

He swallows his flame and subsides, head down to the slab. He's so tired of knowing he's nothing but a weapon, a monster. So tired of seeing himself in dreams through the Bewilderbeast's eyes. So tired of knowing Hiccup can never truly forgive him. How can he, when Toothless can't forgive himself?

Cloudjumper rumbles, so low it seems to thrum through the house's foundations.  _I am so sorry. I didn't know you were in such pain, Alpha._

_Don't call me Alpha. And I'm not in pain. This is only what I deserve._

_Listen to the human elder, Alpha._

Gobber is still interpreting Gothi's words. But his voice is no longer funereal. It holds a spark of hope. "…since the only thing that breaks the plant's hold on a person is the beloved's death," he reads, "and since it's not an enchantment, but a – a herbal effect…" Gothi hands her three used tablets to Valka, who lays them on the floor. Toothless obligingly warms them just a bit, so the wax melts and flattens. The fourth she gives to Gobber, who keeps reading. "Then it stands to reason that the effect comes not from the death, but from the victim's feelings when they realize their beloved is dead."

Dagur's face lights up. "That might well be, Wise One," he says to Gothi, who cants an eyebrow and preens a little at the title. "In Berserker history, the books mention one pair whose enchantment was broken when they gave each other," his words tumble out faster, "a mortal wound! The enchantment was broken, and they died in each other's arms, begging forgiveness and pledging their love to one another!"

Toothless hears Cloudjumper's approving rumble. "Before they died?!" Astrid whispers.

"Yes, before they died! The history—I remember now! There were many pairs who reconciled before dying! Yes!" The Berserker chief surges to his feet, beaming. "You're right, Wise One! You're a genius!"

"Well, we all know Gothi's a genius," says Valka, running a hand over Toothless' head, "but how do we use this information to save them both?"

Gothi writes again. "There's another plant, Stillwort. It induces a sleep that will mimic death. The only hitch is," Gobber reads, "it has never been tried on a dragon."

Cloudjumper mutters. The humans look at each other uneasily. "The physiology isn't that different," he keeps reading. "There's no reason it shouldn't work. It's just never been tried."

"So wait." Astrid steps forward to face Gothi. "You're suggesting Toothless, what, eat this herb? Or smell it or…" Gothi gestures to her mouth. "Eat it, okay. And it'll make Hiccup think he's dead? And that'll break the spell?"

Nodding, the elder elaborates, scratching on the tablet. "When Hiccup starts his attack," Gobber says, hushed, "that's when Toothless should eat it. It'll take effect soon enough that Toothless will collapse."

"Collapse?" frowns Astrid.

Gothi takes up another tablet, washed smooth by Toothless' flame, and writes. "Stillwort slows your breathing and makes your heartbeat so faint it's undetectable," Gobber reads. "He'll stay that way for several hours. Hiccup will think he's the cause. That should break the shell—Sorry, the spell."

The final words are followed by an uneasy silence. "But what about Toothless?" Valka asks.

"He should be fine," says Gobber, "but since it's never been tried…" he traces the runes with one finger in the light coming in from the window, "there's a small risk he won't. It could be poisonous to dragons. It could induce a sleep that – well, he might not…" He squints at the runes, as though desperate to read a different meaning into the script. "Always a risk," he looks down at Gothi questioningly, "that he might not wake up?"

Gothi nods. After a moment, so does Toothless.


	6. Chapter 6

 

Toothless curls into his slab. He’s sure he won’t be getting any sleep tonight.

The humans – and Cloudjumper – have organized everything. The humans in the know – Valka, the two Berserkers, Gothi and Gobber – are stationed around the house at a discreet distance, close enough possibly to hear but not to intervene. Since she can’t risk letting Stormfly find out, Astrid is circling the area on Cloudjumper, low and flat on his back so she won’t be scented. At first, Cloudjumper wanted to stay nearby, but his sheer size precluded any attempt at hiding behind the house itself. “Promise not to interfere,” Toothless insisted as they were making the arrangements. He hopes that promise holds: once it starts, the older dragon’s protective instincts will take over, as is only natural, and he will have a hard time holding himself back.

“I’m not sure I can promise that,” Cloudjumper growled. But Valka and Gothi seconded Toothless in this: there must be no intervention. _The victim,_ Gothi insisted, _must believe he has killed his beloved, or the cure will fail to take effect._ Cloudjumper reluctantly acquiesced. They’ll swoop in once Hiccup has – if he does – if this isn’t just a hair-brained scheme of Gothi's, if Toothless doesn't die, if Hiccup does come back to himself. Toothless can't ignore the possibility that all the others seem to disregard: that this is Hiccup's righteous vengeance for Stoick, that his love has turned to hate. And who wouldn't hate Toothless, after what he did?

It’s all arranged, they’re all in place; Toothless has to think they’re there to protect Hiccup, because it’s a waste of time and effort to protect him. Yes, he’s the Alpha, but that’s only by default, the same way as he stumbled into leadership by dint of killing the old queen all those years ago. Cloudjumper would be a much more competent Alpha. At least _he’s_ not a murderer.

The little bag of herbs lies sleeping in his crop, ready to be regurgitated when Gothi gives the signal. Toothless himself won’t sleep. He’s too nervous. How can he?

He’s still thinking that when sleep takes him.

* * *

 

Toothless wakes with Bad Hiccup’s metal leg in his side.

“Get the Hel up!”

Toothless was deep in exhausted sleep, and he can’t help the scream that bursts from him. That side bore the brunt of the mace beating yesterday, and any touch hurts. To have it kicked is like fire. Bad Hiccup grabs him by the neck. “Shut up,” he hisses. “Don’t wake anyone.” Of course, Toothless remembers as he blinks the sleep away, Hiccup doesn’t know Valka is outside. Obediently, Toothless rises from his slab and slinks down the stairs. “Good. You’re learning,” Bad Hiccup says.

As he slinks out the door, Toothless is overcome with guilt for calling him Bad Hiccup. How can Toothless call him bad? Toothless murdered Hiccup’s father. He remembers, in the horrible aftermath of that battle, thinking that his life was forfeit in both the human and animal kingdoms: killing a dragon’s sire is still one of the few things that justify instant vengeance from the dam or offspring. And of course, in the human world, you’d be executed. Hiccup had his knife at his chest yesterday and didn’t execute him. Even if the plant kills him today, it’s still an extra day of life Hiccup allowed him.

Now, Hiccup wants to vent his rage and grief and inflict a little pain. Toothless is getting off lightly. Toothless knows he’s earned it. All that’s left is to endure it.

This time it’s a hammer instead of the mace. Toothless manages not to cry out, but he can’t help grunting. Each time the stone hammer whacks his cracked ribs, shattering bone, drives a spike of pain upwards through his head. A blow catches his wing and he squeals, high-pitched and loud, biting it off before anyone can hear. Astrid has arranged for the guards to be stationed out of earshot, but dragon ears are more sensitive than humans think.

Toothless’ teeth spasm out, drawing blood from his gums and tongue because they’re not supposed to do that. The last time they did that was when he lost his fin. Afraid he may lose control of his gullet or pass out too soon, Toothless retches the little bag up from his crop. He isn’t certain he’s going to survive the stillwort, but that’s all right. The misery is eating him alive. Better a quick death than wasting away in slow torment.

As Toothless works the bag into his mouth, Hiccup’s up in his face again, his knife to Toothless’ chest. “I should kill you,” he snarls. There’s nothing of his own beloved Hiccup there, soft and loving even in his darkest hour. Toothless remembers it all, when he had to drag Hiccup up and put him to bed, when his grief found vent in howling, when he sat for so many days scarcely moving that he began to smell of decay, when he ranted at the human gods, when he woke up in nightmares and pushed Toothless away, shouting. Never has he snarled in Toothless’ face with such utter hatred and contempt. “You are the reason I shot that arrow,” Hiccup chokes. “If it wasn’t for you, I wouldn’t be feeling this way. I’d still have a family.”

Toothless can’t make a sound. Hiccup is crying again now, but Toothless can’t think of comforting. “How does it feel,” he chokes, “to know you did this? That you’re the cause of it all?” Hiccup traces the knife over Toothless’ heart. “How can you stand to live the rest of your life knowing it?”

 _Now,_ Toothless thinks he hears Cloudjumper push at him. There’s an echo of Gothi, too.

He steels himself and bites down on the leather bag.

The stillwort is sweet, so sweet. He’s never tasted anything so sweet. He’s falling backward into sunlit skies. As the knife touches his heart, Toothless breaks free from his body. He’s pumping his wings for vertical lift, hundreds of wingspans up in the air, and they go up _up up up up_ reaching the clouds in the blink of an eye and it’s so bright and everything is blue and wild and free.

Hiccup calls to him, up in the heart of the dazzling sky. “Toothless,” he shouts in ecstasy, and the savage, unholy joy of acceleration takes hold of him and he opens his mouth to shoot rings of fire as his partner calls his name.

He can still hear Hiccup screaming his name as he fades away into pure, blinding white.

* * *

 

“TOOTHLESS!!!!!”

Hiccup remembers everything. Everything, everything, everything. Every insult, every blow, oh gods, Toothless jerking and writhing as he battered at him. Blaming him. Wishing death on him. Hurting him. He blinks, taking in the night air, the dew-drenched grass, the moonlight.

His Toothless is lying limp under his knife, mouth bloodied. He’s not breathing.

“Toothless… Oh Gods… Toothless…” Hiccup flings the knife away. Its touch disgusts him. He falls to his knees by his best friend’s unmoving body. His other half, _his dearest his everything his Toothless._ The Toothless who lay still and let Hiccup – oh _gods –_ smash his ribs, beat his face, hurt him _hurt him—_

He presses his head to Toothless’ soft, velvety chest, straining to hear the faintest whisper of a heartbeat. There’s nothing. “Toothless,” he cries, pumping the still body, hoping to force air back into his lungs. His eyes are closed, his face expressionless. _Dead._ “No, no, no…” He shakes him. Toothless rocks, limp, as Hiccup manhandles him. “No,” Hiccup repeats, clinging tighter. Something is pulling in his head, feeling like it’s about to snap. “No, you don’t get to do this, do you hear me?” He shakes Toothless as much as he can. “Not you too!” His voice is breaking and he doesn’t care. _“You can’t do this to me!”_

Hiccup falls back on his heels, staring in wide-eyed despair. “Toothless.” Hiccup throws himself forward again. He rubs his face over Toothless’ belly, arms reaching to embrace him. “Don’t leave me…” He’s still warm. Still soft. Hiccup can almost imagine he’s still living. Will still open his eyes and look at him with his loving gaze. Will still spread his wings and fly. He flashes to another body he embraced, another body that was still warm. “No,” he mutters, pressing his face tighter to Toothless’ stomach. Dead, Stoick was dead, Toothless is dead, _no he can’t be dead he can’t be dead._ “Toothless,” his voice breaks on a sob and he keeps sobbing, “Toothless, don’t leave me, don’t leave me…” Hiccup pushed Toothless away. He told him to go away. Toothless made himself so small, shrank into himself… He saw him lying in the dirty snow. And now he’s here in the soft grass

dead.

Hiccup killed him. Hiccup remembers it. He remembers his beautiful, imploring eyes, remembers the rush of hate as he laid into Toothless, remembers the ferocity with which he snarled at him and spat his loathing. Remembers the hurt, helpless gaze, remembers Toothless’ cries, his soft whimpers and keens for Hiccup to stop. Toothless never fought back, never raised a claw against him, not once.

dead no more Toothless  _no more Toothless_

The thing in Hiccup’s head snaps. Hiccup cries out, a rush of something overwhelming him. It seems to burst with a soft pop and he flings himself to the grass, scrabbling for the dagger. He wants it now, he needs it there’s something _very important_ he has to do with it and he has to do it _now—_

“Hiccup, no!”

He growls, finding the dagger in the dirt. His fist wraps around it like salvation. Just one thrust and it’ll all be over, no Valhalla for him but maybe it’s just as well—

Astrid lands on his back, knocking him to the grass face-down. The impact sends the knife flying and drives the air out of his lungs. “Hiccup!”

“No!” He’s flailing against her as she straddles him, wild with despair, with rage. How dare she deny him this? “No, let me! I have to!”

“You don’t! Listen to me!”

He has the strength of ten men, he can fight her off. He bucks her away and rolls onto his back. But Dagur and Heather and Gobber are all suddenly there, holding him down. “No!” he yells, maddened. “No, let me do this! I have to do this!”

“I’m sorry, Hiccup,” says Astrid. He has a moment to wonder what she’s apologizing for before her fist impacts the side of his head and sparks fade to black.


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Many thanks to Thursday26 for beta and character advice.

Hiccup’s lying on a pallet-bed in the dragon pens in the Academy.

There’s no reason he should be able to tell where he is, but he recognizes it instantly by the smells of the stall. Valka is by his bedside, Cloudjumper close behind her. _Mother._ It’s all he has left. And nothing he deserves.

But he doesn’t have the energy to think of deserving. There’s nothing in him but the flat blank press of grief.

He’s lying on his back, staring at the ceiling. He doesn’t see a reason to turn or get up. He thinks of saying something, but he doesn’t really want to speak anymore. What would he say? And what would it matter, anyway?

His arms are numb.

“Hiccup…” Valka runs a hand over his forehead. He blinks. Behind Valka is a rustling: Cloudjumper is moving around. The pen’s big enough for him. Maybe Valka will move into the Academy so she can room with Cloud, he thinks crazily. Should have put in that annex when they had the chance. Stoick won’t mind. Stoick is dead. Hiccup can’t stand the house. He should tear it down. Oh right, he can’t, he’s deeded it to Valka now. He should write his will. He’ll be dead soon, and he shouldn’t die intestate. He should elect a deputy, Astrid is the de facto deputy but he has to make it official, and— “What are you thinking, Hiccup?”

His mouth is moving. “I should be dead.” He can hear the words, but he doesn’t remember trying to talk.

“No, don’t say that.”

His mother's hand touches his face. It seems to be shaking, but he's not really sure. He can’t bring himself to care. He hates her. Hates himself. Hates everything. Well… there’s one person he doesn’t hate. The one he blamed for everything. The one he killed. He notices his mouth isn’t moving. He closes his eyes.

Valka offers him food. He refuses it. She offers him water. He wants it, but he can’t raise his head to drink, so he turns his face away. Eventually, he drifts off again.

* * *

“I know they say you shouldn’t spring the news on the victim, but Hiccup’s fading away!”

“Eh, lassie, he’s not fading away.” Gobber pounds the nail he’s making with his small hammer prosthetic and drops it into the water to cool, listening for the familiar small hiss, instantly quenched. “He’ll be all right…” But his hearty words fade away as he looks up from his work into her wide, scared eyes. To tell the truth, if it were up to him, he wouldn’t have left Hiccup’s side, but there were some repairs that couldn’t wait. He thought the lad would be all right with Valka, but here she is in the smithy, beside herself. He tries for hearty and reassuring again: surely she’s worrying too much? “It’s only been a few hours!”

“You didn’t see him, Gobber. He’s – he’s lost his will to live.”

The words shoot panic through Gobber for a split-second. But he takes a breath, scooping the nail out of the bucket and dropping it on the pile. He can’t fault Valka for thinking that, especially with how upset Hiccup was. But she doesn't know how resilient he is yet. She has a mother's worry, which is only natural, but it has a way of turning a wee scrape into a broken bone. Instead of getting started on another nail, he wipes his hand and starts to dislodge his hammer prosthetic. "Do you want me to take a look at him, Val?"

“It’s not us he needs.” Her eyes are big and worried. “How long till Toothless wakes up? Does Gothi know?”

Gobber shrugs. “In humans, it takes… well, he ought to be up by now. It’s never been used on a dragon before. And there aren’t even any other Night Furies to take an educated guess.”

Valka’s face shadows with worry that’s not only for Hiccup. “Will he live?”

He takes a deep breath. “There’s no reason why he shouldn’t…”

“They need to be together,” Valka says with the confidence of one who knows it in her bones. “Help me.”

“Right, well. The plan was to wait for them _both_ to wake up, so let’s just go and have a look at him first before we do anything rash.” Gobber strides over to his repository, replaces the hammer, and plugs in his trusty hook. “Come on, Grump, time to wiggle that…” He grins as Grump bumbles over to Valka and flops onto his back to be scratched. Her smile is a little sad, but she obliges, rubbing his belly as he purrs and lets his tongue loll out in ecstasy, writhing in delight and knocking over everything in the vicinity. “Why of all the lazy, spoiled--! Get moving, you--!”

* * *

 

“Lad.”

Hiccup blinks. Why? The cell is dark. It’s quiet. It feels right. He closes his eyes again.

“Toothless is alive, but he’s in a bad way. He needs you.”

He’s on his feet before he realizes he’s even got up, and he sways. “Tooth—”

Gobber’s arm is around Hiccup, bracing him, rock-solid. “Pull yourself together, lad. Time enough for the vapours later. He needs you now.”

“T—I—T—He…” Hiccup flails, pivoting out of Gobber’s hold. He’s kept from falling flat on his face by a wiry form, taller than Gobber.

“We’re taking you to him.” Voice. Mother. Soft.

Hiccup wants to protest. He’s the one who hurt Toothless. He’s the one who – Toothless may not be dead, but it wasn’t for lack of trying on Hiccup’s part. But they’re not giving him any room for argument, and Hiccup can’t deny the urge to see for himself that Toothless is still alive.

The voices say something about saddles and smooth rides, and then Hiccup docilely lets himself be manhandled behind Gobber onto Grump. The friendly Hotburple grunts sympathy as he hovers up off the ground with a _whup-whup-whup_ of humming wings. Hiccup leans against Gobber’s broad back, arms around his belly, head aching. Gobber’s shirt smells of soot and sweat and charcoal and iron ore, and for a moment he’s ten years old again, snuggling up to Gobber in the forge when things were hard and life was simpler.

* * *

 

Hiccup’s three parts asleep when Grump alights, butterfly-soft, on Gothi’s platform. Hiccup staggers off, Gobber’s vise-like grip on his arm keeping him from tumbling off the edge. Giant wings beat behind them. He registers it’s Cloudjumper coming in for a landing. But then Gobber grunts “In here,” and half-carries Hiccup through the door to Gothi’s hut.

The moment he steps inside, his senses are overwhelmed with the sight and sound and scent of Toothless. The hut is black compared to the sunlight outside, light spilling in from the window – _what time is it? what day is it? –_ but he can see Toothless’ shape, like recognizing his own hand, lying in a heap on his side in the corner and his chest _rising and falling._ His breathing is raspy, but he’s _inhaling and exhaling._

All Hiccup can see is Toothless, _alive._

Hiccup chokes and sways, Gobber and Valka on either side to catch him. “When did you last eat, lad?” rumbles Gobber.

Valka’s voice floats through the hut. “The last time was a bite of bread the day before yesterday.”

Hiccup bats at their supporting hold – which never wavers – and staggers forward. “Toothless.”

Gothi rises from her seat by the window and strides over to Hiccup, pinching a fold of his skin. It doesn’t hurt, but it’s slow to spring back into place, like a withered fruit. Leaving him, she goes deeper into the bowels of her home. Ignoring her odd behavior, Hiccup stumbles to Toothless, kneeling to him.

Toothless is lying on his side, a soft black shape with a gentle rise and fall. He’s facing outwards into the room. His wings are not folded, but not spread either, draped loosely behind him like he was shot out of the air mid-flight. A splint of sticks and canvas is tied to one wing. His paws are curled into a tangled heap over his stomach, and his tail lies limp on the floorboards, naked of saddle and prosthetic. The light glints dully off his body, smooth and sleek—and marred by… Hiccup sways on his knees.

As Hiccup’s eyes get used to the dimmer interior of Gothi’s hut, he starts to make out more and more. There are lumps all over Toothless’ body. The lines of his back and sides and ribcage— _gods even his wings even his stomach_ —are broken by bulges of bleeding under the skin, sometimes split to form welts. They glisten in the light slanting in from the window, slathered with Gothi’s greyish-green salve, the odd color making them stand out against Toothless’ night-black hide.

Hiccup feels a tremor start in his gut, and clenches his teeth to choke it down. He leans back on his heels to look at all of his friend. But for Toothless’s chest rising and falling, Hiccup might have thought he was dead. Toothless’ familiar, beloved face is oddly blissful, beatific even, as though he’s asleep and having a wonderful dream. But beyond that, every line of his body screams exhaustion, like he’s been taxed beyond endurance. The surface of his strong neck is uneven and abraded. The scales are scraped off into a circular pattern of raw welts, crusted with blood in a regular pattern, like the teeth of—

_A mace._

“Lad, you all right?”

Gobber’s voice is coming from far away. Valka’s wiry hands grasp Hiccup’s elbows. But it’s too late.

 _Get up, you useless reptile._ Grass under his feet. Scales under his hands.

His fingers crushing Toothless’ ear-nubs. His hands yanking Toothless’ ear-flaps. His mace striking Toothless’ side. His – _gods_ – his metal leg kicking Toothless’ chin.

“Hiccup. Take a breath, lad. Take a breath.”

The dull glow of Toothless’ hide fills Hiccup’s vision. He remembers how Toothless’ body jerked under the—hammer? Gods, no. “No,” Hiccup mutters. Gobber’s shaking him, but he can still feel his arms echo with the vibrations of the hammer through his hands, crushing Toothless’ flesh and cracking his bones. His eyes burn and his throat rasps, a sound forcing its way out. “Toothless… I did…” He can’t breathe. “I…” He can feel it still, feel everything. Hear Toothless’ cries, see his dying-bird floundering as he lies there and lets Hiccup lay into him.

A sob breaks from Hiccup. But Gobber’s voice cuts through the haze, brooking no argument. “Drink.” His flesh hand is holding up a gourd, Valka kneeling next to Hiccup to steady him. “Gothi says drink.”

It’s just water, the tang of mint in it, but water. Hiccup realizes he’s thirsty, and gulps at the gourd like he’s dying of thirst. Halfway through, he splutters, pushing it away. “Did Toothless drink? Did you give him anything to…”

Gothi whacks the floor with her staff. A hysterical giggle bursts out of Hiccup: he must be in a bad way if Gothi isn’t whacking him in the head, her preferred means of communication with patients. “Toothless is being taken good care of.” Gobber translates. This time it’s Valka who raises the gourd to his lips and he drinks and drinks and drinks until his thirst is slaked. “You just worry about yourself,” Gobber finishes as Valka sets the gourd aside and they both support his stupid, undeserving self. It isn’t him who needs support.

“Me? I’m fine,” Hiccup retorts. “It wasn’t me who…” He can’t finish. Hiccup’s eyes are drawn irresistibly to the underside of Toothless’ chin, exposed as he lies there on his side. Sure enough, in the sweet spot Hiccup loves to scratch, there’s a lump. The lump has a bloody dip in the middle. In the shape of the toe of his metal foot.

Hiccup cringes, feeling the vibrations of kicking Toothless echo through his stump. Toothless’ little whimpers as he was beaten… _Gods…_ Toothless jerking and grunting as Hiccup smashed the mace down, relishing the jolts as it struck Toothless’ body. Hiccup remembers his savage pleasure at brutalizing Toothless. At hurting him. His stomach heaves.

“No, no, no, no, no! Keep the water down!” Valka yanks him bodily to his feet, the jerky motion choking back his nausea.

Gobber joins her on Hiccup’s other side. “Don’t make yourself sick, lad. He needs you.”

“Needs me?!” Hiccup whispers. “I’m the last one he needs! I should never see him again!” Hiccup’s eyes flit from the swollen bruises on Toothless’ neck to his ear-flaps, bandaged tightly and each sandwiched between what looks like two pieces of wood to prevent them swelling out of shape. To see that inflicted on Toothless is sacrilege. Now he’s fully used to the dimness, he can see the blue and purple mottling in the sensitive areas where Toothless’ leathery hide gives way to soft velvet, in some places raw and welted from the metal of the mace. And Toothless never even made a sound. He just closed his eyes and took it. “Why didn’t he fight back?” Hiccup blurts forlornly, voice cracking. “Why?”

“You’re his Precious Thing,” Valka says. Any other time Hiccup would have felt curious at what sounds like a new piece of dragon knowledge, but now it just curls up into a withered husk in his chest.

Gobber grunts what would have been a chuckle if the situation weren’t so serious. “You think that dragon would lay a finger on ya? Claw? Whatever?” A heavy silence falls as they both remember the last time Toothless attacked Hiccup. “At least, not in his right mind,” Gobber continues, voice thick. “You weren’t in your right mind, either.”

“What?” Hiccup rasps. They’re still talking to him, but he can’t hear them, overwhelmed with the things he did, the things he said. _I’m taking the saddle off you. You don’t deserve it anymore._ Toothless keening, bereft. Hiccup screaming at him to shut up. _I’m going to make you wish you were in Helheim._ Toothless’ wide, hurt eyes, resigned, accepting. The way Toothless’ body jerked as Hiccup beat him… All the blood feels like it’s draining from Hiccup’s brain, solidifying into a hard lump blocking his chest. He groans and shrugs out of their hold, sinking back down to his knees. He can’t stand there being supported and comforted when Toothless… when he… _I’m gonna cut your heart out the way I should have cut it out and given it to him._ Toothless’ eyes are closed, the way they were when he turned his head away and braced himself for death. Hiccup reaches a shaky hand out to where Toothless’ heart beats beneath the soft skin of his chest.

His hand closes and he pulls it back. He’s not worthy to even touch Toothless’ hide. The things he said... If anyone deserves death, it’s not Toothless: it’s Hiccup, for what he did to him. Hiccup drags in a breath. He shouldn’t even be breathing. His breath hitches in a silent sob.

Gobber’s overcome with helplessness as he stands over the lad he loves more than any son. As unpleasant as he was acting under the poison, this shattered Hiccup is infinitely more painful to watch. He looks over to where Gothi was standing, but she’s not there anymore. Probably doing something for them… Gobber turns back, and his breath catches.

Toothless’s eyes are slitted open.

Hiccup can’t see it yet, slumped over on his knees, forehead almost touching the floor. Gobber’s reminded of when the dragon first opened its – _his –_ eyes after the great fall, when, dazed and battered, Toothless lifted his wings to reveal Hiccup nestled there.

He takes a step closer, trying to look in the dragon's eyes.

* * *

 

Toothless’ body throbs.

He lies, dazed, on the hard surface pressing into his battered side.

He tries to move, but he can’t. He’s aching all over—no wonder, he took a pounding. Still, he’s alive, he can feel his own breathing, his own heartbeat…

 _His_ heartbeat. No-one else’s.

There’s no warm little weight in his wings.

Panic surges through Toothless. He tries to move, to cry out, but all that comes out is a silent scream. _HICCUP!_

 _Hiccup Hiccup Hiccup—!_ Is he dead? Did Toothless manage to save him? Did he catch him, did he break his fall? Oh gods Toothless can't _remember_ there was the dive and the heat and then... And then--! His Hiccup so _fragile!_ Did he burn, did Toothless not protect him? _No no no Hiccup!_ he roars, but no sound comes out; he flounders desperately, but his body _will not move._

“Toothless…”

 _Hiccup!_ Toothless’ heart sings. He’s _alive!_ Hiccup’s alive!

“Toothless.” Hiccup’s hurt. Toothless can hear it in his voice.

“Oh, Toothless…” His throat’s thick, his voice is broken. He’s in agony. Toothless’ heart tightens at the thought of his fragile little fledgling friend in pain. What happened to him? Toothless tried his best to shield him from the flames, tried to protect his little human bird-bones from breaking, but his best might not be good enough—

‘What’s the matter?’ Toothless tries to say. ‘Where are you hurt?’ He can smell Hiccup now, and Hiccup’s in pain. Aren’t his humans helping him? Toothless has to get to him, he has to, he _has_ to! He tries again to move, pushing desperately against the weight holding him down, but he can’t. His wings are stiff as a Sentinel’s; limbs, ears, tail, no part of him will obey his command. He wails, but his throat is paralyzed and won’t vibrate. In his mind, he screams. _Hiccup!_

“Toothless…” There’s a raw note to Hiccup’s voice, like when you tread on a wood-melon, which is hard as stone, but sometimes ripens out of season, and instead of supporting your weight it shatters suddenly underneath you and is crushed and you can see all its raw liquid inside running and glistening and obscenely crushed and exposed to the light _._ Hiccup’s broken-open inside shows in his voice, much closer now, and Toothless makes one last desperate effort to reach for him. He aches to see Hiccup – he can’t smell his blood, but he can smell his pain, sharper than the throbbing in Toothless’ own body, and he aches to soothe it. He has to see where he’s hurt. Nothing will move, but his eyes manage to open just a sliver—a useless, hazy slit of painful brightness. There’s movement in his blurred vision: Hiccup? Is he well enough to move? But where’s he hurt?

“Bud…” Hiccup’s voice breaks, and there’s the almost inaudible stutter of silent sobs.

 _Oh, Hiccup. Don’t cry_ . Toothless whines in frustration, still unable to make a sound. He pours all the force of his will into the slit that is his vision, willing his eyes to focus. There’s still not much, but a blurry shape is close by, a slight human body blocking some of the cruel glare. The scent of his Hiccup makes his heart ache. _Come closer. Let me hold you. Why aren’t you coming closer?_

 _What_ **_happened?_ **

Hiccup is still whispering Toothless’ name in abject misery. Toothless wants to take that grief away, but his body won’t respond. Why won’t it respond? Why isn’t Hiccup sheltered safe in his wings? Why is his poor Hiccup so wretched? Toothless can still only move his eyes, and he screams without a sound. His dragon heart will burst with the need to _go to Hiccup_ to _be with Hiccup_ and all he can do is lie here.

Through hazy eyes, he can see Hiccup’s hand moving closer. Toothless’ heart flutters. Hiccup is going to touch him! He leans into the reaching hand, but he still can’t move. Helpless, he waits for the touch of Hiccup’s soft little hand on his aching body, to make everything better…

But it _won’t come._ Hiccup moves his hand close to Toothless’ hide, close enough to disturb the air between them and set it to swirling, caressing his skin; but he won’t close that last inch and _touch_ him. _“Hiccup,”_ Toothless whines, but there’s still no sound, nothing but his silent paralysis.

Hiccup’s hand hovers tantalizingly close, along Toothless’ wings, his side, his face, but never quite touching. As Hiccup’s hand ghosts ever closer, Toothless can feel each of his scales quiver and unfurl to follow its path. He can’t move, but his scales are vibrating, standing on end for Hiccup’s hand like a field of sunflowers turning toward the sun. All his pain is nothing to the ache to touch Hiccup, to feel him, to _be with him._ “Toothless,” Hiccup rasps, and each one of Toothless’ scales shivers and turns towards the sound, yearning.

A darker shadow falls across the bright haze of Toothless’ vision. The scent of another human. Mother? Familiar, but he can’t place it. “Touch him, Hiccup. He needs you.”

“He doesn’t need me!” There’s such misery in Hiccup’s tone that Toothless starts fighting his own useless muscles again, desperate to get to him somehow. “I’m the _last_ one he needs!”

Toothless groans, though no sound comes out. _I need you. I do need you. Please. Please…_

Hiccup’s hand hovers over his face, and the ache to be touched is so strong that Toothless launches a desperate attempt to overcome his slack muscles, his unresponsive body.

And something seems to give.

With what feels like the last of his strength, Toothless dredges up the energy from somewhere. His neck aches as he stretches the shaking muscle, and extends his snout to nestle into Hiccup’s hand.

Toothless’ heart stutters, then settles. His every nerve sparks and turns toward the touch, scales sighing like the wind in a field of grass. He groans soundlessly as he feels himself complete. He’s _home._

Hiccup gasps and shivers. “By my great Aunt Gerta…” says the other human voice in the room.

“Toothless…” Hiccup breathes, hushed, voice thick with tears. He starts to sob. _No, Hiccup, don’t cry…_

And then Toothless is enveloped in Hiccup’s soft arms, soothed and embraced with tender touches, gentle little human hands caressing the places it hurts and human tears falling on his snout and Hiccup’s voice in his ear whispering apologies and endearments and promises and not letting go. He whines in relief, at the feeling of finally being home. “Stay,” Toothless whines, needing it, needing the comfort, needing his Hiccup. His voice won’t work, but he still says it.

“Hold him,” says the soft human voice. “Can’t you see it? He’s pining for you.” _Yes,_ Toothless thinks, trying to speak, unable to make a sound. _Stay. Don’t leave me._ He doesn’t think he can endure it if Hiccup takes his touch away.

And Hiccup doesn’t.

Instead, Toothless is softly cradled as Hiccup draws his head into his lap and comforts him. _Yes,_ he sighs, _yes._ He doesn’t know what happened… he seems to remember something wrong with Hiccup’s leg… He shudders… _cut off?_ No, he protected Hiccup… Wait… he attacked… someone? Hiccup’s— _no…_ This time, when he moans in confusion, he can hear his own voice.

“Shh, it’s okay, bud, it’s okay.” Toothless whines and presses into Hiccup’s body as much as he can. “Shh. I’m here. I’m here.” Hiccup’s voice hitches. Is he sick? Is he hurting? No, please, no, Toothless can’t take care of him, he’s too weak himself, _please Hiccup be okay…_

“…okay, it’s okay, it’s okay.” Hiccup’s voice is a breath, hitching, raw, but it’s a caress, it’s reassurance, it’s security. Nothing can hurt him when Hiccup is around. Toothless’ desperate heartbeat calms and warms. “I’m here, bud. I’m here.”

Gradually, Toothless’ aching loneliness eases as he relaxes into the warmth and lets himself trust. Hiccup’s here. He’s not leaving. Hiccup’s crying, tears falling onto the top of Toothless’ head as he nuzzles him feather-light with his little human face, but he’s here and Toothless is safe and they’re together. _Don’t leave,_ Toothless pleads desperately with the sliver of voice he can manage. _Don’t leave me. I need you. Stay._

And Hiccup does, holding him fast until he falls into a natural sleep.


End file.
